


Executive Duties

by JustSomeStories



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Aren't we all though?, Bat Family, Gen, Tim Drake-centric, Tim is dead inside
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2020-07-28 02:51:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20056834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustSomeStories/pseuds/JustSomeStories
Summary: Sure, he’s a vigilante during his night job, but his 9-5 is CEO which is so much worse.Or: CEO Tim Drake dealing with various members of the superhero and supervillain community





	1. God is Dead (Luthor & Bruce)

Luthor.

Tim was half sure the man had broken in because, despite looking poised in Tim’s desk chair, the man wasn’t on his schedule today. His mouth quirked at the image of Luthor shimming through the ventilation so he could dramatically ambush him in his office.

The man spent most his time pinning after Superman - in an evil, super-mastermind kinda way- of course he couldn’t do something normal, like call ahead so Tim knew to stay home or hide in the bathroom. No, this was Lex freaking Luthor: voted megalomaniac of the month for a consecutive 63 months.

He’d probably used giant magnets to get in.

Tim’s smile grew. Luthor copied it.

Horror. He wasn’t scared per se, just extremely disgusted and put off. Is this how people who knew Bruce Wayne was Batman felt at galas when Brucie pulled them into an affectionate hug and showed- dear god, the rapture is here- _his teeth_?

Tim’s hair on his neck sprung up. A way of his body saying: not today, Satan.

“Hello, I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” Luthor said, sitting in Tim’s chair in Tim’s office

What the absolute _heck-a-doodle_? 

“You weren’t expecting to see me here-“ Tim narrowed his eyes. “-in my office?”

Luthor ignored him, leaning back till the chair squeaked. If Luthor broke his chair, Tim was going to break his face. It’d be the headline everywhere: _Wayne Heir Decks Lex Luthor._ He’d have to flee the country- Kon would help.

The chair squeaked again as Luthor sat back up, giving Tim a knowing look. What he was supposed to know was unclear. Luthor raised an eyebrow; Tim raised him two.

“If you’d take a seat.” Luthor gestured to the chair Tim made work associates sit in- where he made _Damian_ sit.

Luthor better have brought a shovel, because the only way he’d ever, _ever_, sit in that chair if Luthor defiled his grave and dropped Tim’s worm-food remains onto the cushion. Over his decomposed corpse would he take that seat.

Tim blinked at him, a silence drawing out. He made his facial expression meet how he was feeling: God is dead and so am I. The dark circles under his eyes always helped sell the look he found.

Luthor’s smile faltered. “Mr. Drake?”

Tim spun on his heel and left, the door thumping behind him. He’d reached his capacity for bullshit when Jason had shown up earlier covered in ‘strawberry jelly’ from ‘an accident at the jelly factory’. His office had glass windows, flaunting Luthor’s gaping mouth as he stomped towards the elevator.

Tim clicked for the lobby and, for a brief moment of blissful naivety, he’d thought Luthor had given up. He’d long assumed this job had cremated him of all hope, but Luthor scrambling out of Tim’s office mutilated the last piece he even didn’t know he had.

Pity. He’d liked having hope.

Luthor’s eyes singled in on him. Tim gave an airy wave as the doors slid shut, sealing him from the bald demon.

For thirty wonderful, peaceful seconds, he didn’t have to deal with anyone. No eager interns, spontaneous family members, or creepy businessmen.

Life wasn’t chill with Tim’s happiness; life wanted Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne to _suffer_. He’d learned that years ago. This job only cemented it.

The doors dinged open and Tim was met with the bustling lobby of Wayne Enterprises. The commotion was familiar; it was nice. Luthor jumping out of the stairwell like some heinous jack-in-the-box? That was actually also familiar, but it wasn’t nice at all.

Tim didn’t want this.

Their gazes met and Tim slowly backed into the elevator, doing a two-finger salute across the lobby.

Tim had a blossoming list of questions, the most pressing one being: how did this bug-eyed stalker know which floor he was going to pop out onto.

It’s one Red Robin will answer later: a future Tim’s problem. Current Tim’s problem was the supervillain strutting across the marble floors towards him.

His fingers rapidly clicked the ‘close door’ button. Deep down, he knew it was fruitless, the button didn’t actually do anything.

Nonetheless, a part of him withered away as Luthor, chest heaving, slid into the elevator.

“Hello, Mr. Drake.” His torso puffed and beads of sweat broke his composure.

Tim pulled a hand to his chest, eyes wide. ”Why, Mr. Luthor! What a lovely surprise! What are you doing here?”

“Don’t… Don’t-“ Luthor leaned against the wall. “One moment… I just ran a couple of flights of stairs.”

Tim inched away from Luthor while the man rested his hands on his knees and drew long breaths.

The floors ticked back towards his own, but each second stuck with Luthor made Tim more desperate to hit the emergency stop and climb through the maintenance hatch like a spider monkey with a strong will to live and an animosity for businessmen with no hairline.

He’d do it too... if it didn’t raise serious questions of who Tim Drake really was.

“Don’t patronize me,” Luthor finally said, straightening himself up and smoothing his suit jacket.

“I didn’t mean to offend. It’s just, what are the odds of the two of us getting into the same elevator?” He let out a good-natured laugh. It wasn’t good-natured; it was a cry for help. Jesus Christ, someone rob or kidnap him and get him the hell away from this rich dweeb beside him.

He was going to die in a ditch and Luthor would be the culprit.

The man gave him a glare that rivaled Batman’s. The hatred was palpable; Tim could have swum through it if he’d wanted. The sea of displeasure parted for something more horrid: Luthor’s smile. Tim’s hair stood up again and he resisted the urge to take another step back.

“Yes, what are the odds of that?” Luthor’s smile -which, _ew_\- grew and he clasped Tim’s shoulder. “Now, we have a meeting to be getting to.”

“I don’t believe you’re on the schedule,”

Nails dug into his shoulders. Tim could die saying he’d never met a businessman quite like Luthor.

When Tim snapped -as the second he’d taken this job it’d become when not if- he’d enact his double hitter revenge plan: kill Luthor’s business assets and flaunt his hair where Luthor would see by starring in a shampoo commercial.

“You’ll find a way to fit me in,” Luthor snapped as the door opened. “Now preferably.”

Tim was being led back to his office, where he’d no doubt be blackmailed into accepting a shady deal that’s end goal would be to screw over Clark because Luthor was obsessive like that. Tim rolled his eyes at the predictability of it. The same tango as usual and Luthor still hadn’t improved his dancing.

In rolling his eyes, he saw a darkened blob in his office. Tim smiled, a real one for once. “Of course, right this way.”

Luthor opened the door, manhandling Tim in. They both stopped short as Bruce rose to meet them, reading his phone.

“Hey, Tim, I wanted to talk to you about Jason and his-“ Bruce’s eyes rose and slid to Luthor. “-‘_strawberry jelly incident’_. Mr. Luthor, I didn’t mean to impose.”

“Oh, it’s quite alright. But, Mr. Drake and I have business to-“

“I’m sorry, family emergency. There’s jelly everywhere.” He turned to Tim, but his darkened gaze repeatedly flittered to Luthor. “Jason is in hiding and Titus has gotten a taste for jelly. Anything or anyone cannot be saved from him. I’ve had to impose martial law.”

“That does sound like an issue.” Tim conceded. “I think I have to take care of this Mr. Luthor.”

“I’m sure Mr. Wayne can-“

Bruce gasped and looked at his phone. “It’s Titus. He’s got Damian and he’s asking for a ransom! Two whole jars of jelly, but Jason destroyed them all!” He grabbed Tim’s arm and pushed Luthor’s back until they were all in the hallway. “We have to leave, we might not be able to save Damian, but we can save Jason.”

“But-“ Luthor started.

Bruce pulled Tim towards the elevator, shoving him inside. “Goodbye, Mr. Luthor.” The doors closed, shutting the man off.

With the closing of the doors, Brucie departed and Batman spun to loom.

“So… you’ve got a jelly problem,” Tim raised an eyebrow.

“You can drop the act. Whose blood was it?” Bruce’s tired gaze was eerily similar to Tim’s own ‘God is dead expression’. Tim made a locking motion and tossed the invisible key over his shoulder. Bruce grumbled before ruffling Tim’s hair. “I’ll find out; I _always_ find out.”

Bruce dropped a hand on Tim’s shoulder. Unlike with Luthor, he found himself leaning into it rather than away. Both Luthor and Bruce teetered someway into a little bit crazy, but Bruce was the good kinda crazy.

”Trust me, I know.”

The crazy he could count on.


	2. Please Take One (Dick & Damian)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim's running the Halloween celebration at work. It goes just lovely

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy late Halloween  
<3

It hadn’t been his idea.

Tim felt he needed to stress that. _He had not wanted this._

Nevertheless, grubby hands grabbed into the box he held, taking handfuls of candy even though he’d explicitly stated that they were to ‘please take one’. Children were lawless gremlins.

The child of someone from HR was dressed up as a pumpkin. Sure, kids were cute, he couldn’t dispute that. They and their puffy cheeks were freaking adorable. Earlier, a little girl had come dressed as Brucie Wayne, suit and all and she had been charmingly suave– even if she was only dressed that way so her parent could kiss up to him. Regardless:

This pumpkin child _was his new nemesis_.

She was a chubby monster. First, the child had grabbed Tim’s hair and pulled with a vengeance. She’d soon knocked the candy bowl out of Tim’s hand and laughed when he cleaned it up. The child had laughed. That was some sociopathic joy she was getting.

He by no means blamed the parents, both who shared increasingly concerned looks. This was personal. This was between him and that cretin: that two-toothed slobbering mess who gurgled with an air of supremacy.

Jesus Christ, he was projecting.

His opinions about children had been leaning on negative ever since Damian came into his life. Someone trying to kill you really ruins a lot of things; right now it was ruining adorable kids getting hype over candy. Damian had all the making of a cute kid: plump cheeks, doe eyes, and short stature.

Tim had lived most of his life as an only child. Now he had four. He soon learned why Jason had tried to kill him: youngest siblings were annoying. Well, it was that and him being Robin, but otherwise, Jason had clearly just been disgruntled.

He was projecting again.

He and Damian had been doing somewhat better lately; as were he and Jason. It’d be near the two-year mark since any one of them had tried to kill him. He kept a counter on his office computer. It was cathartic: being able to see at least two people weren’t trying to screw him over.

He worked in two industries where everyone was trying to figuratively and literally sucker punch him. It depended on the day for which one was worse.

“Happy Halloween,” He mumbled, thankful that the horrid pumpkin girl was leaving. He swore that the child had held an ‘L’ to her forehead as she left. That child held no resolve for anything good and pure in this world. That child probably beheaded her barbies and laughed.

“Please take one.”

“I’ll take as many as I want. I don't listen to you, _Drake_.”

Tim closed his eyes and focused on his breathing. He could deal with this. He could deal with this. He could–

“Do you see this?! Grayson, he would rather sleep than give me candy! I told you this was a stupid tradition.”

There was a hand on his shoulder, shaking him lightly. He opened his eyes to meet Dick’s. He and Damian had gone as Batman and Robin– although they’d switched roles. Thank god Dick was wearing pants.

Tim could only take so much.

“You good, Timmy? First glaring at the baby and now this.”

Tim brushed his hand off. “I’ll be fine. And you heard me, Gremlin: take one or I’ll make Bruce cancel your trust fund.”

Damian’s chubby cheeks turned red. His tiny hands tensed around his pillowcase. He bared his teeth at Tim –which what the heck? Did Bruce know his child was feral?– and made to kick at Tim’s knee.

“Dami, don’t.” Dick grabbed him by the underarms, pulling him back.

“I’ll kill you,” Damian said, pointing at Tim.

“I’d welcome it,” He dropped a single piece of candy into Damian’s pillowcase. It was an Almond Joy. “Happy Halloween.”

Dick dragged Damian down the hall where the activities were, but not before he got a swift kick to Tim’s shin.

“I’ll get you while you’re sleeping!” Damian yelled from down the hall.

“Don’t spoil the gift! I want to be surprised!”

A new family walked up to him with two little boys. One was a zombie and the other was a character from some FPS he’d briefly heard of. The pair clutched their parents' legs, both of whom were sharing looks back and forth.

He held out his bowl, putting on a false smile.

“Please take one.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you guys thought!


	3. Workplace Saftey (Jason)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim skips a meeting. Rude move, dude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys like it :)

Tim had been avoiding a meeting when it happened.

Suzan and Kyle from HR had been going department to department, lulling each office into a 100-year slumber with their thrilling presentation: “How to Avoid Being Kidnapped in the Workplace.” One might ask: ‘well, how do you avoid being kidnapped outside of the workplace?’ 

The answer is: shut up. No one in Gotham cares what happens to you as long as they can’t be sued.

Which, whatever, fair point.

Worse is that he’d heard the presentation required a demanding amount of audience participation. He’d seen Kyle, adorned in clown makeup, sprawling across tables in the manner only a repressed theater kid could. He’d seen people exiting the office, their best suits covered in glitter. Tim didn’t want that. Who wanted that?!

Well besides Suzan and Kyle that is.

Now Tim can handle a lot of things. He can handle boredom. He can handle glitter. He cannot handle a goddamn Prezi.

Why in a world with Google Slides and PowerPoint, would anyone sane ever, _ ever _ chose that circle-based monstrosity. However, he’d made the mistake many people who’d never met Suzan and Kyle made: assuming they were sane. _ They were not. _

So, upon evaluating all the data and making a multitude of color-coded mind maps, he decided to flex his CEO benefits. As head of the company, he could take many liberties in his work life. He tried not to abuse them, but today he relented. He closed his iron fist and used his power for soulless, selfish gains.

He hid in the bathroom until they left. 

And when they did, everything exploded– figuratively that is. He’d lapsed into a sense of security. He’d done what got new Gothamites killed. He’d assumed the danger had passed.

Tim left the bathroom, mimicking air-drying his hands. He waved at coworkers as he passed.

It didn’t matter, he saw it in their beady, judgmental eyes: _ they knew what he did. _They knew of his sin. That Satan would welcome him with his torture pre-planned for curving Suzan and Kyle like that. Luckily he was saved from coworker scorn as luck decided to smile down upon him– in the mutilated way it did whenever that luck was meant for Tim.

He was kidnapped in the workplace.

That wouldn’t have been terrible. Bruce was usually pretty quick to get Tim back –he’d even gotten fairly skilled at it considering the normality of it– and most kidnappers didn’t go too rough on him. Don't want to break the merchandise and all that. 

And, oddly enough, Batman always seemed to show up.

No, what made this kidnapping worse– what made it horrific, is that he knew the man under the mask. That terribly familiar red hood. Even the grab was familiar enough: painful, but not too painful. He and Jason were _ going to have words _ after this. 

Worst of all, he couldn’t even complain until Jason had plopped him on a rooftop some seven blocks away. 

Jason was recoiling his grapple, barely acknowledging Tim. No, he was ignoring Tim, because Tim had been glaring at Jason for three minutes and Jason hadn’t even turned in his direction. Tim crossed his arms, grumbling.

“What the hell, Jason?”

Jason removed his mask, domino still over his eyes. He grinned at Tim. The sea of silence parting.

“Sup, Timmy?” 

Jason ruffled Tim’s hair. Tim stomped Jason’s foot. 

“I hate you.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Jason stretched and something in his back popped. “Anyways, Timmy, Bruce called me today and was all: ‘want to totally fuck over Tim’s day?’. Now those weren’t his words, but they were basically his words,” He flicked Tim’s nose. “So I was like: ‘hell yeah, which gun do I bring?’”

Tim sat down. It seemed like it would be awhile. 

“And he said: ‘Jason...’ in _ that _ voice of his. So, you already know I was questioning this whole thing. Like, why do this for him and not put my whole heart into it, y’know? But then Bruce told me what you did.”

Tim popped back up, arms tossed in the air. “I didn’t do anything.”

Jason shook his head, placing a heavy hand on Tim’s shoulder. “You’re so _ goddamn _ stupid.” He released Tim, poking him in the chest. “This is a lesson, Timbo. Don’t curve Suzan and Kyle like that next time– _ I’ll know _ . Bruce and I are very ‘concerned’ about your ‘safety’ in the workplace.”

Jason was using an excessive amount of air quotes.

Jason walked towards the edge again. He stretched a second time and something else popped. “I gotta get that checked out,” It wasn’t until Jason started to raise his grappling hook that Tim’s mouth caught his brain.

“What the– you guys don’t even talk!” Tim stumbled after Jason. “At least give me a ride back. Come on, what if I get tossed in a white van on the way, then what?”

“That’s Bruce’s problem. I don’t give a fuck what happens to you outside the workplace.”

Jason left, leaving Tim stranded atop the building in his glitter-less suit. Had skipping the Prezi been worth it? He watched Jason’s shrinking form, falling to his knees. Maybe he could call an Uber. He reached into his pocket for a phone that wasn’t there.

_That bastard-_

Jason finally vanished from view and it hit him:

So this was his punishment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you guys want/situations you'd like to see!


	4. Outside of Work Safety (Jason)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim's day gets worse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This a continuation of the last chapter, hope you enjoy!

Tim had a backup plan if things ever went south; in fact, he had several.

One rounding out near the top involved changing his identity and immigrating as a hermit to the West Indies where he’d create a humble mango business. Of course, when his hair started to grey, the neighboring towns and cities would wonder whom this recluse could possibly pawn his company off to. 

It would be Jason. 

Years after Jason had stopped thinking his little brother would pop up, he'd get a letter to his nursing home. Tim had passed and had left him something. That’s right: a thriving mango company. How could he refuse? Who doesn’t love a good mango?

Things would go south quick. Work conditions would've deteriorated since Tim’s passing. A worker would slip on a ladder, breaking their ankle; they would sue. Jason’s newfound wealth would dissipate, returning into the seeming abyss it came from.

But Tim? He’s not dead; he’s the worker who broke their ankle. He would have taken up another new identity. One that could watch Jason’s assets crumble like a sandcastle in a hurricane. 

Only then, as Jason’s life fell apart, would Tim have peace. 

He still had some nuances to figure out --like the goddamn Batman. Bruce let him scheme in peace-- as he’d only come up with the plan a couple of minutes ago. The idea had sprung up on his walk from the rooftop Jason had left him on back to the office.

It came to fruition when Tim was tossed in the back of a van about three minutes into his stroll. With each pothole the driver hit, a piece of Tim’s empathy shriveled up and died a painful death. He couldn’t go three minutes without being prompted with an unprompted Uber. Jason could drown in debt for all Tim cared.

“You sure that’s the Wayne kid?” A grizzled woman poked his cheek. She had cut holes on the side of her ski mask to let her myriad of piercings on both ears poke out. A couple of them were kinda nifty; Harper and this lady could vibe in Tim’s opinion. 

Would it be inappropriate to ask where she picked some of the earrings up? Sure it was a kidnapping and all, but he’d been skimping on Christmas gifts, and the date was looming closer.

“I think so. It’s embroidered on the inside of his suit,” Said the second accomplice. The somewhat pot-bellied man juggled Tim’s jacket around. He wore a pair of glasses on the outside of his mask. “It’s a damn good embroidery job too.”

“Let me see--” Piercings said, pulling the jacket to squint at it. “Wow, you get this professionally done? My tailor’s still out from the last Scarecrow attack, I need a new guy.”

“Nah, just this dude I know,” Alfred. It was Alfred.

“Well tell him he did a fantastic job. Is it hand-done or did he use a machine?” Spectacles had grabbed the jacket from piercings. Tim shrugged. Alfred worked in mysterious ways.

“After we get the ransom,” Piercings grabbed it back. “How much you worth, kid?

Tim looked to the side. Batman had always shown up before anything was paid. He had no real garner for how much he was worth. A coupon for one free visit from Batman didn’t translate to traditional money too well. He chewed the inside of his cheek, ignoring their pressing stares.

“At least one cheese quesadilla.”

“How much cheese?” Spectacles asked.

“Extra.”

“Damn.” Piercing whistled. 

They hit a particularly hard bump, sending Tim sailing. Spectacles caught him, offering a sympathetic look as he straightened Tim back out. “Gotham roads, am I right?”

“Absolutely.” Tim agreed.

He didn’t think it was much beyond that until the car jerked to a stop sending all three passengers tumbling onto the ground. Spectacles was banging on the divider separating the front of the van from the back, yelling for the driver to pick it up. 

Tim smiled; it was Batman time. Or it was until a gunshot rang out.

Maybe it wasn’t Batman time.

Some stomped outside the van, taking care to make each footstep audible. They peeled the truck’s doors open slowly, using a familiar, albeit annoying, dramatic technique. Tim swore when red popped up from the crack of the opening door.

“Hey,” Jason greeted. “I’m just gonna grab this idiot and leave, chill?” 

“Totally cool uh, Mr. Erm-- Mr. Red Hood sir,” Spectacles mumbled, pushing Tim towards Jason.

Jason grabbed Tim by the scruff of his dress shirt, lingering in the doorway. “Suit jacket too,” Spectacles took it from Piercings, tossing it towards Jason who grabbed it mid-throw. “Sick,” Jason said, also observing the stitching. “He really does do good work.”

“Bye, guys,” Tim waved as Jason hauled him out of the truck. 

Jason shut it, putting the deadlock in place. “The drivers gonna be out for a while. He’s not dead, I just sorta broke his face a tiny bit.”

“Yeah, sure.” Tim snatched his jacket back, sliding it on. Jason snorted at him.  
  
“Here’s a tip, Timbit, don’t go walking into low-end Gotham with a Brioni dartboard on your back.”

The details of his mango plan were aligning. The schematics were falling into place. It wouldn’t take long to pluck the right strings; he could work fast. 

Tim glared at Jason. “You left me on the roof.”

“Which wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t skipped your meeting.”

“What--”

Jason spun, jabbing a finger at Tim. The red helmet glimmered and Tim had the distinct impression that Jason was grinning under it. Tim felt his face wrinkling from a thousand-year glare compressed into a single moment.

“That’s right! This is still the lesson!” Jason said. “You thought I was done huh? Sike bitch! Life’s a game and I’m winning-- if you discount that _one time_. Otherwise, get played, Timbo. Get played.”

Tim rubbed his temple. “I… don’t-- can I just go back to work now?”

“Sure, I don’t care. Just don’t get kidnapped again,” Jason shrugged. “I can’t commit to promising I’ll come get you again.”

Tim doubted that. Jason would come just for the excuse to collapse more face-- perhaps even because he cared. Tim didn’t have enough evidence yet. Jason tended to be rather yo-yo like in his… actions. 

Wait.

“You aren’t giving me a ride back after this?”

“As if,” Jason pushed Tim’s back, making him stumble into a few steps. “I’d start walking if I were you.”

“Eat a mango, you little-”

“Oh don’t flatter me, Timothy.” 

West Indies here he comes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you thought :)

**Author's Note:**

> ~ If you have any suggestions of things you want to happen or people for Tim to meet let me know ~
> 
> Also, if you have any criticisms please let me know; I’d love to improve <3


End file.
